


Sticky Notes and Fluff (the other other kind of fluff)

by bortlescale



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, I blame all fanfic, I have no idea how this works in real life, I laughed the whole time I was writing this, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Schmoop, are they even real?, but not that fluff, clap if you believe in fluffers!, dick puns, fluffboy!Dean, happy valentine's day, if you know a fluffer tell me the truth, it's probably not done with mouths, pornstar!Castiel, what is wrong with my head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-13 00:21:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3360851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bortlescale/pseuds/bortlescale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a fluffer.  Cas is a pornstar.<br/>There's one dick Dean would like to get to know.<br/>Charlie is awesome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: These characters are not my own.

Dean catalogued dicks.

 

That wasn’t specifically his job, no, but it was his pastime.  You could call it a passion.

 

Everyone always talks about following your passion and all that crap.  So one day Dean’s going down on this guy in the back of the Impala, just doing his thing, which he’s been told he’s pretty fucking fantastic at thank you very much, and the thought runs through his head:  _I love dicks_.

 

So, it’s not the most original or ground shaking of thoughts, granted, but at that moment it had a peculiar poignancy. But, not one to lollygag (not gag at all really) Dean stored it away and got back to the matter at hand. Or rather, mouth.

 

~

 

Later on, in that great sanctuary of the mind, the shower, Dean comes back to this thought.  It’s not that he just fleetingly loves dick, as in, loves to have sex, or loves to give head, which he does.  Rather, it’s that he could seriously make a study of the human dick.  It’s fascinating, truly.

 

Back when he was sixteen and the only dick he’d seen in real life was his own (and his brother’s that one unfortunate time, but there was no studying of that, nope), Dean didn’t really wonder.  Why would he?  All that changed with the first time he gave head. He’s on his knees in front of this hot dude, when suddenly there’s dick right up in his face. And the lights shone down and the angels sang a great hallelujah and he was gifted with divine cocknowledge. No, not really, he was freakin nervous and trying to come up with a plan of attack that wouldn’t suck (or would it?).  Later, however, like a scientist unraveling the mysteries of a very phallic universe, he could take time to appreciate the differences between the dicks.

 

His first point of comparison was, of course, himself. He was the control. Dean’s dick, as he would come to learn, had considerable girth and slightly above average length. He was cut, like most his age, slightly curved, and veered a bit to the right.  As time went by, however, and he got more first-hand experience, he could really start to see the myriad ways a dick could differ. There were the obvious: length, girth, cut or uncut. But there was so much more than that.  Was there curve? did it veer left or right or not at all? how hard could he get them? how fast? were they shaved? or hairy? what color were the pubes? were they rough and wiry or soft?  how big were the balls? were they sensitive? how tight would they coil when the dude came? did they like having attention paid to the head? to the slit? to the vein? to the frenulum? how wet did they get? how did they taste? how did the precum taste? what was the texture? were there bumps at the base of the head? was the head smooth? was the shaft smooth? was it veiny? did they need a little ass action to get going? did they like licking or sucking more? in what order? how hard of suction? did they like to see his eyes? let him do all the work? or grab hold and fuck his mouth? what kinds of sounds do they make, if any at all?  Sometimes what worked for a guy would change depending on whether they fucked already or even just their mood on a given day. The possibilities were endless.

 

It was beautiful.  You could say, Dean appreciated dickversity.

 

Anyway, Dean figures out that he’s legitimately passionate about dick.  It’s an addicting mixture of curiosity and appreciation.  So, that’s how Dean ends up being a fluff boy for a porn studio.

 

~

 

It’s not like it’s all he does.  Seriously, a guy’s jaw can only take so much, so most of the time he’s a production assistant.  But he’s called when he’s needed and he’s the best. Sometimes he even gets requested. There is one dick, though, that he hasn’t had the pleasure of meeting.

 

It’s nothing personal, he’s sure; some guys just don’t use a fluffer.  But this guy is hot and Dean wants to personally catalogue his junk.  Now, that’s not to say there’s a direct correlation between hotness and the niceness of said junk, but he can hope that this guy’s got the whole package, so to speak.  This dude goes by Emmanuel or, sometimes, just god, it’s a hit with religion kink enthusiasts, but his real name is Cas-something.  He’s got dark, perpetual sex-hair, which makes sense, unusual but full lips, always a five-o-clock shadow covering a square and broad jaw with a cleft chin, and eyes the color of a pristine, stormy ocean. (What?  It’s not like Dean has eyes only for dicks, jeez.) He’s well built, too. Lean and muscular, not a twink but not burly either, not hairless nor particularly hairy, a picturesque happy trail, and hipbones you could cut freakin glass on.  Not to mention his narrow but muscular ass. So maybe Dean’s spent a lot of time looking, but hey, they’re all human.  Hell, they’re in the business of one of the basest human needs.

 

So, one day Dean saunters up when it looks like Cas is about to get ready for a scene and asks, “Hey man, you need any help with that?” and nods toward his currently flaccid penis.

 

Cas looks up and it’s like he’s a deer in the headlights.  He looks _terrified_.  His eyes dart around, he swallows thickly, his shoulders tense, and he stumbles backward a few steps.  “No, no thanks,” he stutters.  And then he quickly edges away from Dean.

 

Well, now Dean’s just confused.

 

~

 

Sometime next week Dean’s talking to one of the editors, Charlie, about the run-away incident.  Charlie’s a lesbian, so how she ended up working for a gay male porn studio, Dean does not know, but she’s awesome at what she does. He thinks maybe she can be just objective enough to know how scenes should fit together. When he had asked her about it she had just mumbled something about lesbians having a thing for gay man-porn, but whatever.  He tells her about the incident with Cas.  After laughing her ass off for like five minutes while Dean scowls at her, she pulls herself together enough to offer some info.

 

“Castiel is pretty shy actually, maybe you surprised him or something.”

 

“Dude, he looked like I had just kicked a kitten,” Dean scoffed.

 

Charlie gasped, “Noooooo!” like she was imagining said kitten-kicking.

 

Dean shoots her a supremely unimpressed look. “Just help me out so that I may boldly go where no man,” Charlie gives him a sass-face, “where many men except one man, namely me, have gone before.”

 

“Alright, I’ll do some recon,” Charlie smiles and winks.

 

“Cool, thanks,” Dean returns with a grin.

 

~

 

Over the next few weeks, Dean’s daily clipboard gets bombarded with sticky notes from Charlie proclaiming factoids about Castiel.  He pretends to be annoyed but secretly stashes them in a drawer at home.

 

Some are obvious:

_Dude, his eyes are like the bluest blue to ever blue._

 

Some strange and hilarious:

_He called someone an assbutt._

 

Some blasphemous:

 _He’s never seen Star Wars_.

 

Some weird and endearing:

_He really likes bees._

 

And one that may have made him too flustered to keep.

 

Despite all this new information, Dean still can’t work up the courage to try to talk to him again.  He keeps having flashes of that face looking at him like he was a freakin demon or something.  So he just keeps going about his job, helping out on set, and continuing his rigorous research into the splendid world of dicks.

 

~

 

One day, he’s taking a break, leaning against a set wall, flexing his hand from giving a particularly brisk handjob, and Charlie sidles slowly up to him.

 

“What’s the word?” he asks, opening his eyes a slit to glance over at her.

 

“Bird.”

 

That gets him to lift his head and look at her fully. “What?”

 

“Bird’s the word,” she says like it’s completely obvious.

 

Dean just leans his head back and lets out a long breath through his nose.

 

“I think you should talk to him today,” she says out of the blue.

 

“Yeah, why’s that?”

 

She waits until he looks at her again and gives a quick, bouncy shrug.  “Dunno, today feels auspicious.”

 

Dean’s giving her a suspicious look when she just grins smugly and flounces away.

 

~

 

It’s a bit later than usual when Dean wraps up for the day.  He’s going over his paperwork and is about to put his clipboard and headset on their hooks when none other than Castiel walks into the office wearing, oddly enough, a full suit and a trench coat.  At first Dean freezes a bit, then turns to give a grin and make some sort of witty remark, but then he catches sight of Castiel’s face.  He looks defeated.  Immediately, Dean launches into caregiver mode, “What’s wrong, Cas?”  He winces a bit at the nickname, but waits for him to answer.

 

For his part, Cas looks slightly less afraid than he had the first time they talked, or, well, Dean talked.  He recovers to a neutral expression and says, “Hello, Dean.”

 

 _Holy shit_.

 

Cas’ voice is dingy smoke and whisky burn.

 

Dean tries desperately not to release the whimper caught in his throat.

 

“It appears my car won’t start and it’s beginning to rain,” Cas continues, apparently not noticing Dean going weak-kneed like a twelve-year-old girl.

 

Dean recovers his voice, at least, and replies, “You want me to take a look?”  (Hey, he’s a man of many talents.)

 

Cas pierces him with his gaze, as if trying to figure out what Dean really means.  “That would be much appreciated, Dean, ” he says with a furrowed brow.

 

“Sure thing, man,” Dean says as he finishes hanging up his stuff and grabs an umbrella that’s been laying around the office forever, “let’s see what’s up.”

 

Luckily it’s not pouring rain yet, but it’s enough to be bothersome if they stay out too long.  “You mind holding this while I look?” Dean asks.

 

Cas gives a solemn nod and reaches out to take the umbrella.

 

As Dean leans over the engine he can feel Cas right next to him, hip-to-hip and radiating heat, or maybe Dean’s just really sensitive to the proximity.  He tries to calm his thoughts and figure out what’s wrong with the car. It’s not like Cas is trying to be that close, their space is limited by the size of the umbrella. After a while of poking around, he spots the problem.

 

“Uh, Cas,” he stands up and turns around to face him and finds Cas’ face extremely close to his own, regardless, he continues, “your spark plugs are missing, man.”  Dean wants to facepalm with the amount of images that come to mind when he says plugs standing so close to Cas.

 

Cas’ eyes roam his face, but otherwise his expression remains blank.

 

“This car’s not going anywhere tonight,” Dean supplies as he closes and pats the hood.

 

At this, Castiel’s shoulders slump.

 

“But I could give you a ride,” Dean rushes to say. He really doesn’t like Cas looking so forlorn.

 

Cas gives him that penetrating stare again and Dean looks right back into those blue eyes tinged with grey from the cloudy sky. “Thank you, Dean,” he says quietly.

 

~

 

When they get to his car, Cas quietly states, “It’s beautiful.”

 

“Yes, she is,” Dean affirms with a grin.

 

After giving him the name of his apartment complex, which Dean’s knows because it’s a few blocks away from his own, Cas is quiet. The silence of the car ride isn’t awkward though; it’s peaceful with the steady patter of the rain against the roof and windshield.  But Dean’s all pent-up energy and, after all the notes from Charlie, he’s actually curious about the guy.  Still, he doesn’t want to risk spooking Cas again, so he opts to remain silent.

 

When they get to the apartment, Dean insists on walking him to the door; it’s still raining, after all.  They get to the door and Cas efficiently finds his keys and is about to slip inside when Dean reaches out and grabs his elbow. Cas looks over quickly, clearly surprised, but says nothing.

 

“Why did you look so scared of me when I talked to you?” Dean asks, a faint note of hurt slipping in to his otherwise neutral tone. He expects Cas to be confused, or maybe just pull out of his grasp and step inside.

 

Instead, he says, “Come inside, Dean.”

 

Dean quietly chokes on his own spit, before following Cas inside where he leads him to the dining room/kitchen area and motions for him to sit down.  Dean watches as Cas steadily moves around the kitchen, putting a kettle on, taking mugs out of a cabinet, getting out boxes of tea.  After a few minutes of silence the kettle whistles and Cas pours the water and sets the tea down on the table.  Dean sits there with his hands politely curled around the mug while Cas stares down into his tea.  Finally, he speaks without looking up, “At first you startled me.” Dean watches as he glances up, then back down at his mug and stays silent.

 

“What about after that?” Dean prompts carefully.

 

“I-“ then he gets up and walks out of the room.

 

Dean looks at where he disappeared from sight, dumbfounded.  He hears some rustling and assumes that maybe that wasn’t a dismissal. Finally, Cas comes back into the room with a bright pink post-it note in his hand, which he quickly sets on the table in front of Dean.  He then steps back and waits, staring at the floor, like he’s about to be scolded.

 

Dean looks down at the note.

 

_He calls his car Baby._

 

It looks like he wasn’t the only one Charlie was doing recon for.  The realization makes his heart beat double-time.  He gets up and stands in front of Cas, lifting his chin gently to look him in the eyes.  He’s wide-eyed and nervous and Dean’s not much better off.

 

“Castiel,” he wets his lips, “can I kiss you?”

 

Cas continues to stare into his eyes and, almost imperceptibly, nods.

 

Dean moves his hand to cup Cas’ jaw and slowly moves forward.  When his lips are mere centimeters from Cas’ he waits; and Cas closes that space swiftly. At first it’s tentative, finding out how exactly their lips slot together, but, they’re not inexperienced after all, it quickly becomes confident and excited and electric. Dean’s slipped his hand to the back of Cas’ neck and Cas has moved his hands to Dean’s waist.

 

Dean relishes that strong, large grip on either side of him and strokes the short hairs at the base of Cas’ head, eliciting a long sigh.  Finally, Dean breaks away, leaning far enough back to focus on Cas’ eyes, panting a bit.

 

“You wanna move this somewhere else?”

 

In response, Cas just takes his hand and leads him to the bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Porn!

As soon as they get into the bedroom they separate and efficiently strip out of their clothes.  When that’s done, they’re back together and exploring each other’s mouths in earnest.  Cas is cupping Dean’s jaw in both hands, controlling the tilt and firmness of their kisses.  Meanwhile, Dean is slowly dragging his fingertips down Cas’ back, relishing the firm muscles under smooth skin and how his breathing picks up at the soft, but not tickling, movement.

 

Cas’ hands float down to Dean’s chest and push him away gently.  He doesn’t have the time nor the brainpower to question what’s next before Cas is stepping away towards the bed.  He walks backwards in agonizingly slow steps, like the reverse prowl of a predator.  His eyes sweep up and down Dean’s body as his features grow concentrated and dark with lust.  It’s enough to make Dean shiver under the scrutiny, and for a millisecond he thinks he might be in over his head.

 

Once Cas gets to the bed he scoots backwards with a surprising amount of grace, considering the movement, and continues to stare at Dean with all his focus.  All the while, Dean has been observing Cas as well, mentally documenting each curve and plane where he wants to taste, tease, and touch.  Now it’s his turn to stalk over to the bed. He doesn’t try to put on a show, he just rakes his eyes over the long form in front of him as if there’s nothing else worthy of his attention, which, really, there isn’t. He can see Cas’ arousal growing and a flush spread across his chest.  He finally crawls onto the bed and stops midway.

 

Cas isn’t fully erect yet, which Dean is thankful for, because he wants to feel it grow under his ministrations. He leans down, never breaking eye-contact with Cas, and breaths one harsh, hot breath over his erection. Then he crawls the rest of the way up to Cas’ panting mouth and allows their bodies to touch only at that juncture.

 

These kisses are harsher.  They’re almost violent in their need. Cas is sucking on his tongue before Dean’s biting and laving Cas’ lower lip.  Dean pulls away with a quick nip and looks down onto Cas’ features, so much more beautiful up close, and currently twisted in something nearing a snarl.  And Dean knows what lies behind that look, he feels it himself, like if they aren’t entangled soon, he’s going to snap and take and give in equal, desperate measure. But Dean’s still got a hold of his control, for now, and he wants to draw this out a bit more.

 

Quickly, Dean dives down and sucks hard at Cas’ pulse point. Cas sucks in a strangled breath as his whole body arches in reaction and Dean can feel the goose bumps rise under his lips. He leans up to kiss along Cas’ jaw, grabbing his earlobe between his lips and releasing it after a quick flick of the tongue.  Moving back down, he trails wet kisses down Cas’ neck, pausing at the juncture of neck and shoulder, before continuing, tracing the crevice between his pecs with his tongue and then kissing over to an already hard nipple.  Cas doesn’t seem overly sensitive there, so he pays them some mind and moves on.  He finds a point on Cas’ side, right below his ribs that makes him squirm and grab onto Dean’s hair.  He pays special attention to that point on both sides.  Moving further down, Dean glances up to see Cas with his head tilted back, exposing the line of his neck, eyes mostly closed, jaw clenched from all the sensation.  Dean then softly kisses Cas’ sharp hipbones and the tension leaks from his body as he simultaneously lets out a low hum.  And that makes Dean’s heart rate jump up a few notches.

 

He kisses down Cas’ thighs and then licks up the crease where thigh meets groin.  Cas’ legs immediately tense, his hands bunch the sheets, and he breathes out a broken _hngh_.  He doesn’t make much noise, but Dean is addicted to the sounds he hears.  Arms bracketing Cas’ legs and hands splayed around the sides of his hips, Dean sits on his elbows and looks down.

 

And finally, _finally_ , Dean gets a good look at Cas’ glorious cock.

 

Not even at full mast, he’s long (he’s a pornstar, what do you expect), got appreciable girth, and cut.  He’s trimmed but not shaved, which Dean appreciates as he leans down to roll his balls across his mouth.  At this first contact just almost where he needs it, Cas sucks in a sharp breath.  Dean spends a little time laving the balls and stroking the perineum with his tongue.  He then wets his lips heavily with spit and kisses up the underside of the shaft.  At this point, he can feel Cas grow the rest of the way hard, and what a hardness it is.

 

Cas’ member stands proud, curving lightly up with no veer to speak of.  The head is closing in on purple, and Dean is impressed by Cas’ self control not to take the contact he must be almost desperate for.  At this point, Cas is up on his elbows and Dean reaches up to take a pillow and put it under his hips; now he can lay down flat and have a clear view of Dean sucking him off.  Making eye contact, Dean leans down and flicks his tongue lightly once right against the frenulum.

 

While he lets out an amused huff, Cas’ hands grip tight into the sheets.  “Dean,” he amusedly warns.

 

 _Oh_ _fuck_.  Dean forgot about that voice, and now it sounded even more wrecked from the tension stringing through Cas’ body.  It’s like the rumble of distant, dangerous thunder. Dean can feel it vibrate his fingertips where he’s gripping Cas’ body.

 

Dean tucks up his knees to free his hands and finally reaches out to grab a hold of the base of Cas’ dick.  And holy shit, Cas could lift weights with his dick with how hard he is; god, that’s got to be amazing to get fucked by. But that’s beside the point, for now.  Dean’s ready to show why he’s so good at his job.

 

He squeezes the base for a few seconds and then leans down and takes just the head in his mouth, sucking lightly. At that Cas lets out a long, relieved groan.  Dean pulls off, wets his lips again, and goes back down, this time further down the shaft. At the top, he swirls his tongue a few times around the head and then continues to bob up and down, getting everything nice and slick, allowing Cas to feel the silky heat of his mouth.

 

Cas’ breath has picked up a bit, but it’s still even. His eyes are hooded when Dean glances up and his hand is resting next to his head, like he keeps running it through his hair.  Dean gives a quick wink and goes back to work.

 

The head of Cas’ dick is smooth like river rock, but further down, the shaft is veiny and textured.  Dean’s digging the contrast.  By this point Dean’s gotten a couple drops of precum, and it’s salty and bitter like normal, but also with that underlying essence of distilled Cas.  It’s deep, dark, and rainy.

 

He goes back to bobbing up and down for a while and then starts to add suction.  Now Cas’ breath is picking up and it’s closer to a pant.  Dean pulls off and laps from the perineum, across the balls, and up the vein with the flat of his tongue.  For the first time, Cas’ hips stutter. Dean makes it to the head, swirls a couple times, then tongues the slit, causing Cas to let out an explosive breath. He runs with it. Continues tracing around the slit and then tongues and flicks it.

 

Dean then drops his mouth down and suctions just the frenulum while lapping at it and stroking the base of the shaft with his hand.  Cas is heaving breaths now.

 

After one final long lick up the vein, Dean goes slowly down, down, down until the head hits the back of his throat and his nose hits the soft, dark hairs at the base.  Cas’ hands instantly grip his hair firmly while Dean holds his hips down with his forearm.

 

He looks up, locking eyes with Cas, and swallows.

 

At that, Cas lets out a more high-pitched whine and squirms a bit.  Satisfied, Dean pulls up a bit and then goes back down, just as deep, and swallows again. He keeps that up for a few bobs, then releases his hold on Cas’ hips, grabs them, thumbs stroking his hipbones, and pulls to make him thrust into his mouth.  Cas looks a little hesitant, but gets the idea. Hand’s still firmly tugging Dean’s hair, Cas pulls out a bit and thrusts, gently but firmly, into the back of Dean’s throat.  Through a combination of thrusts and moving Dean’s head, Cas sets up a shallow but quick rhythm with Dean hollowing out his cheeks and swallowing every few thrusts.

 

Dean pulls up and off and Cas lets go of his hair, looking down with nearly glazed eyes.  Dean opens up his stance and, eyes locked with Cas, reaches his hand up to Cas’ mouth.  He quickly slicks up Dean’s palm and then Dean reaches down and strokes himself.  He’d been getting some friction from the bed, but he needed more, and he sighs in relief.  With Cas getting so close to the edge under him, he wants to be right there with him.

 

One hand still working himself, giving Cas a clear view of that show, Dean clamps down his forearm again on Cas’ hips and goes to fucking town.  He bobs hard and deep and fast, flexing his throat, then pulling up and harshly lapping at the head before swiftly going back down.  Cas is starting to squirm at this point and his breath is getting erratic.

 

Dean’s riding that fine line, almost falling into the abyss, but not quite.  Cas has started to make animalistic grunts and is taking in sharp and deep breaths every so often.  His whole body is a livewire, Dean can feel it.  He releases Cas’ hips, stretches his arm up, and runs his nails harshly down Cas’ pale chest while humming deeply around him.

 

And at that, Cas breaks apart.

 

He groans Dean’s name, long and low, like it’s a barbed thing being dragged out of him.  And cums hot and thick straight down Dean’s throat.

 

At this, Dean groans and cums into his hand and in ropes across Cas’ thighs.

 

He sucks Cas through his release and pulls off with one last suckle of the sensitive head.

 

Dean moves up over Cas, in the same position he was using to tease before, and stares down into his eyes.  They both stay that way, until Dean can see stormy blue again.  They’re breathing heavy with release and staring intently; the tension of being on another precipice hangs heavy and promising between them.

 

Finally, Dean leans down and Cas lifts up and they meet in a gentle, almost tentative kiss.  A mirror of their first.  After they pull away, Cas smiles tiredly up at Dean and Dean returns that tired smile right back to Cas.

 

~

 

In the morning, Dean wakes up to a sticky note on the pillow next to him.

 

 _Coffee came to the New World on a ship lost at sea_.

 

Dean’s putting Cas in a category all his own.


End file.
